


The Place Between Homes

by GunpowderFlaw



Category: Narcos (TV), Narcos: Mexico (TV)
Genre: Flirting, Juárez - Freeform, M/M, Pushing boundaries, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23152741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunpowderFlaw/pseuds/GunpowderFlaw
Summary: What happened in Juárez stayed in Juárez.
Relationships: Amado Carrillo Fuentes/Hélmer "Pacho" Herrera
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	The Place Between Homes

**Author's Note:**

> The overly specified location might seem odd to you, but let’s pretend that Amado has a manor with a patio pool looking out to the US-Mexico border. You can beat me up for the inaccuracies later!

Sunlight danced on the tip of a plant sitting on Amado’s patio, green leaves stretching proudly into open air. Pacho perched in the perpendicular angle between Amado’s sofa cushions, enjoying the rare occasion where narcos actually liked each other and decided to have a good time. 

The way up the patio was through a corridor and one flight of stairs, before which you had to step on a thin woolen carpet with complex vine motifs along its margin. There were paintings on the left side wall of the narrow passage, bright, saturated colors and a somewhat foreign delicacy displayed on canvases, reminding people of the daunting artist Frida, only a more experimental one. 

It was difficult to tell how much money was put into the making of this manor, or how the place was compared to the ones in Cali, because at this stage you would have lost the sensitivity to money, and it became a number that had stopped meaning anything to anyone, as long as this number kept growing.

Pacho gathered a pinch of that powdery white substance from the table, studied it, felt the way it slipped between his fingers while someone laughed at Amado’s bad jokes. That was Amado’s common tactics. Pacho always found those tales on crazy encounters endearing, as he himself was considered insane enough to cause all those troubles, yet he was still welcomed to sit beside the victim of those unfortunate events.

Amado tried to get some girl wearing a red dress to join them. From the hollow cut in the back of that dress, Pacho could see her supple muscles flexing gracefully, tanned skin glowing under the sun. She walked away, brushing the boss of Juárez off. Said boss didn’t seem to be frustrated at all, instead he smiled. Rather stupidly, Pacho mused, finishing his drink in one swig, then turned his interest back to that boy with a soft white T-shirt. Amado stared at him for a second, corners of his lips turning up, his moist gaze lingered on Pacho’s unbuttoned neckline from over the upper rim of his sunglasses, which, of course, were in the shade black. Pacho was suddenly seized by a kind of inexplicable impulse that he had no idea how to decipher, but one thing he was sure of was where his sight went - his friend’s gold chain and the slight dust of chest hair peeking out of the undone collar.

He averted his gaze as Amado brought up their surrender, nonetheless, everything started to feel weird, a gesture, a look, a cocked brow, even the air between them smelled wrong, he frowned, feinting his ambivalence with contemplation. 

Later that day as light blue of the sky got eaten away by darker shades, everybody retreated back to their rooms. Like birds retreating back to their nests when it’s dark outside. Pacho stood by the window with both hands in his pockets, taking in the city lights and pondering Amado’s proposal for a continuing partnership. Of course, he didn’t want to stop, this was his life then, extravagant, histrionic, and full of danger. If you grew up a dealer, you’d get used to the feeling of so many things on stake at the same time, and the satisfaction of handling them with ease and elegance was even harder to overcome than the addiction to narcotics. Nor could he stop, because at the end of the day he would just be another dealer with a better sense of putting on clothes and a, as some would call, wrongly-oriented taste in his bed partners. But the Rodriguez brothers took him in when he needed it the most, at this point to carry on was to betray what they all had agreed on - a deal, a way out. They would be the first group of people getting out of this business in one piece if their plan carried out. The problem was, he didn’t understand it. He had no clue what to do after their surrender, neither did he have kids or family in need of the tranquility of life. In his childhood he often imagined himself as one that would discover new land in the wild, exploring and exploiting with gun in hand and sight on the farther unknown, conquering the new-found until he died. He had hoped to die young, because that was the only way of escaping the horrors of old age and the painful passage to everybody’s ultimate fate.

Good thing was, a lot could happen in six months. What he needed to do was wait and see. He could always adjust.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his trance, he reflectively reached for his gun. “Pacho, it’s me.” Amado’s voice was muffled by the wood, “Hurry up, don’t act like a pussy.”

He strode to the door and yanked it open, just for the sake of theatrical effects. Amado was wearing a robe with a bottle of red wine in hand. From his stance Pacho could tell he was coming down from a high.

“Join me at the swimming pool?” He said, raising the wine bottle, “This ain’t half bad compared to mediocre whiskey.”

Not waiting for a reply, Amado went on to resume his route to the patio pool, his robe clutching to his back as he walked.

“I love a good wine.” Pacho said, following him.

“You got lucky, motherfucker.” Amado sounded care-free, still riding the last waves of his neural agitation. “This is one of my best.”

“Oh yeah?” Pacho teased, “For someone like me?”

“There’s no one like you, Pachito.” 

He couldn’t see if the other guy was joking, but from the slightly suppressed tone he knew Amado was at least not lying - the boss of Juárez had been throwing innuendos since Pacho arrived, and the reasons for this sudden shift in their “friendship” had Pacho in a state of confusion. But he would have no qualms if Amado wanted to further their partnership into the bedrooms. Sometimes it’s convenient to mix business with pleasure, especially when your business partner was aesthetically pleasing.

“Don’t love me too much, asshole.” He retorted. Amado just huffed, and continued onward.

They were in that corridor again, Amado barefoot on the carpet, humming some familiar tunes as he slowly approached the staircase. Warm light endowed the paintings on the left wall a sense of gentleness, those colors no longer jumping and fighting for dominance over the canvases.

Everything seemed subdued and surreal during the night, the shadows and dim light veiled cities with a comfortable mysteriousness. There was only two of them on the patio, pool water glimmering with tiny ripples fluctuating under the influence of moving air. Pacho felt his body relax, he took off his shoes and found Amado already in his swimming trunks, holding two half-filled wine glasses, muscles on his long limbs contracting and stretching as he walked.

“That’s the border?” Pacho gestured the distant city lights with his chin as he unbuttoned his shirt.

Amado’s sight traced his exposed chest, and wandered to his lips for a moment before the answer came.

“For nineteen-hundred miles, yeah.” Wine glasses were set on the floor and Amado slipped into the serene water. 

“They don’t look so different to me.” Pacho said, putting his pants aside.

“No, they are not, Pachito.” Amado huffed, using water to slick back blocks of loose hair on his forehead, “In fact they are even more drug-ridden than we could ever be.” 

“Bless them.” He snorted, “I don’t have my swimsuit here.” 

“Take that off then, I don’t care.” Amado took a look at his underwear, and shrugged languidly.

So he did, feeling more confident than ever as if the night could protect him from harm. Or maybe it was because of his company.

“I don’t see a lot of sicarios around here. Shouldn’t you be the important one?” He sat down on the poolside and dangled his legs in the cool water. There was faint light that pierced through the pale blue liquid, creating shadows on Amado’s face, and they wavered with the movement of the water.

“Well, I don’t trust them.”

“I hook up with most of mine, and it’s efficient. Who says you cannot mix business with pleasure?” He said, getting himself into the water.

“I was a sicario once, too.” 

Amado was leaning against the pool wall, resting his arms on the edge. Stars flickered slightly in the night sky, the stillness of the air indicated that it was almost midnight. He reached for his wine, but accidentally knocked the other glass over the edge of the pool. It had the color and texture of stale blood. “Damn.” He breathed.

“It must be some good wine.” Pacho stepped in closer, until they were almost only an inch apart. He could feel heat radiating from the other man, who was regarding him with a challenging look in his bright dark eyes. He swallowed, and found Amado’s gaze on his Adam’s apple.

“Too bad you will never find out now. It was your glass.”

It sounded too much like an invitation, so Pacho leaned in until he could smell the acidity of grapes on Amado’s breath, and stopped, as if waiting for a rejection. When Amado said nothing, he closed the distance between their lips. 

Amado’s hands were on his ass, and he was struggling to get Amado out of his swimming trunks. His hands shook, fumbling to get a hold of the hem. Amado’s beard scraped his face as he shoved his tongue into the other’s mouth. Water flowed between his bare ass cheeks, he was already hard, and it took every last effort of his not to hump against the other man’s thigh. All he could hear was hurried breathes, and the water was far from cool enough to stop him from sweating. Finally Amado’s cock was freed from the trunks that now hung loosely below his hips, Pacho took both of their dicks in hand, stroking experimentally. A small moan vibrated at the back of his throat, his other hand scrambling to the pool edge for purchase. With the next stroke he played with Amado’s slit, thumbing in circles as the other man broke their kiss and struggled for air. Getting familiar with the sensation, Amado started kissing down his chin, leaving a wet trail of saliva cooling in the night breeze. When he sped up the movement of his hand, they both groaned, the other man biting his left shoulder, sucking apologetically when Pacho whimpered. Time seemed to flow and bleed at a slower pace, like the water surrounding them, as if everything else was set in slow motion, with them the only functional image. Water moved between his stroking fingers, and he was breaking it into amorphous crystals. The heat of another cock made him produce small, a bit high pitched noises as Amado’s head leaned back, mouth open with his eyelids half closed. He felt the other man twitch before they both came in the water, pearl droplets mixing as they sank, disappearing into the pale blue pool.

They were breathing hard, coming down from what seemed to be an unreal climax, coolness of the water began to register on his nerve endings as he landed a kiss on his business partner’s left cheek. The latter seemed to be at a loss, his attention fixated on a nonexistent spot in mid air. He played with a loose strand of Amado’s hair absentmindedly, the night masking every blatant touch and revealing of emotions with a kind of security that could almost qualify as a guarantee for their oblivion the next morning. 

“At least now I know how that wine tastes.” He said, matter-of-factly.

“Sure you do,” Amado chuckled, pulling his trunks back up. “You got any cigarettes?” 

“In my right pocket.” 

He watched Amado’s bicep flex as he fished for the pants. 

“I’ll consider your proposal.” Pacho said, “For now, your shipments will keep coming.”

“Good to know, Pachito.”

They climbed out of water, dried themselves using towels on the poolside recliners. Pacho lit up a cigarette as well after putting on his clothes, and looked out to the border one more time. 

He wished, for a moment, that it was Amado who took him in when he had nowhere to go.


End file.
